I rode back to Taralith, entering the town through the western gate. There was another militia man on duty, but he didn’t so much as look up as I rode past.

Either he didn’t care, or the guard’s concern the day before had been provoked by the girls. It was too much to hope that Drakos’ men had left.

It was the middle of the morning, with various folks out and about on the streets. While the town was larger than Fernwick, its layout was obvious. While a network of random alleyways and minor streets crisscrossed the town, four main roads roughly aligned with the points of the compass, all converging on a town square where I’d likely find a tavern and the main stores. I wanted equipment and information, so it was the obvious destination.

I knew Drakos’ men were here somewhere, but I thought the chances of being recognized were slim. Even if they’d been in the courtyard before the temple that first day, it had been several weeks. Time enough for them to forget, and besides, I’d changed quite a bit since then. A beard now covered my jaw, and I was leaner and fitter – in fact, I was in better shape than I’d ever been. It shouldn’t be difficult to avoid them.

There was a large general store, which I took as a positive sign. Tethering my mare to the post outside it, I pushed open the door and walked in.

“Morning, good sir.” A man greeted me from behind the counter. He was middle-aged with thin hair and a bit of a potbelly, but a kind face and an easy smile. “I know most of the folk in Taralith, and I don’t believe I’ve seen you before.”

That was observant of him. “Just passing through.” I walked up to the counter and smiled. “Looking for a few supplies.”

“What do you have need of?”

“A dress or two, as well as some warmer clothing.” I shrugged, “I think the weather is beginning to turn.”

He nodded. “Most likely. I have some, but there’s a seamstress down East Street if you want more. I get my wares from her.”

“Thank you. Do you have a small tent?”

“Oh, I believe I do, as it happens. How small?”

“Large enough for two, ideally.” I smiled. “It’s just me, but I like my space.” I figured the three of us could squeeze in if we needed to, and I didn’t want to allude to traveling with the girls.

“Just you, but you’re after a dress, too?” He winked at me.

“A gift. For my sister.”

“Ahh,” he said, looking abashed. “Well, the tent I have is a little larger than for two. It’s an old military tent a soldier sold me a month or so back.” He shook his head. “Think he was one of the few survivors from the war.”

It made sense any survivors of the battles against Drakos’ army would’ve been keen to sell what they could, both to hide their identities and to salvage what coin was available. “Bad business, that,” I suggested tentatively, wondering how strongly this man felt about it.

“Terrible business, aye.” He shook his head again. “It’s been well used, but well cared for, too. Thing is, I can’t sell it to you for the price of a smaller tent.”

I shrugged. “Fair price for a fair item. How much is it?”

“Fifty gold.”

It was a third of the coin I had, but we wouldn’t be able to sleep under bivouacs when summer turned to fall. “Seems reasonable for a tent that size. If it’s in good condition and packs down tight, I’ll take it.”

“It’s good canvas,” the merchant said. “Packs down well. You need anything else?”

“The rest of what I had in mind should be easier. A whetstone, some rope, a lantern, and a compass.”

“Aye, I can manage all that.”

He fetched the tent from the back of the store, then gathered the smaller items onto the counter while I unfolded the canvas and inspected it, satisfying myself as to its quality.

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“What does your sister like?” he asked, as he showed me the dresses he had.

I made a face. “She’s growing up too fast, you know? I want her wearing something more conservative, but she …” I pulled out a dress I thought would fit Senna. It was cut quite short, with a built-in bodice and a belt that would cinch her already tiny waist. “Yeah,” I said, sadly. “This is the sort of thing she wants.”

The man chuckled. “I have a daughter. I sympathize, my friend.”

I found a second dress, cut from thicker cloth and longer, with buttons that ran down the center. I carried them both over to the counter.

The storekeeper looked them over, checking they were free of faults, then folded them for me. “Seeing as how you’ve done me the favor of taking this tent off my hands, how does seventy-five gold for everything sound to you?”

“Sounds like a deal,” I said. I had absolutely no idea if that was a good price, but the man seemed fair-minded.

“Anything else I can do for you?” he asked, as he wrapped up the lantern and compass in thick parchment to keep them safe.

“I’m an adventurer, looking for somewhere I can do some good. Have you heard stories of towns or villages in trouble?”

“Dragons to slay, eh?” He smiled.

“Are there dragons here?” I asked, before I could stop myself.

He chuckled. “I was jesting with you. Not been dragons around these parts for centuries.”

“But there used to be?”

“So the old stories go.” He shrugged. “Just stories, eh?”

I smiled. “I don’t think I could manage a dragon by myself. No, just wanted to put my skills to use helping where I can.”

“Sorry, but you’re asking the wrong person. I don’t care much for gossip. Keep myself to myself. Try Zevrin in the Hound.”

“Thanks for your help.”

“Not at all. Thank you for your business.”

I strapped the tent to the back of the mare, put the rest in my saddlebags, and looked across the square at the tavern. Its name was engraved above the picture of a curved horn, proclaiming it to be the ‘Hound and Horn’, yet it made sense the locals christened it with a short form. It seemed like a good as option as any; it was getting on for lunch, and I was hungry. Besides, I hadn’t seen any of Drakos’ men yet. They wouldn’t likely hit the tavern until evening, and I’d be gone by then.

Figuring it was worth the risk, I left the horse where it was and crossed the square. The common room was a quarter full, a bunch of folks that looked like locals enjoying simple fare. I leaned on the bar and waited.

“Take a seat, friend,” the barman said, as he filled three mugs with beer. “Melissa’ll be over to see to you.”

“Are you Zevrin?”

“Aye, and this is my place. What can I do for you?”

“Just passing through. Figured I’d stop in for some lunch and catch up on the news. The fellow in the general store said you were the source of information around here.”

He gave a dry chuckle. “Only because people tell me everything, whether I want to hear it or not. Beer?”

“Yes please.”

He filled another mug, putting it on the bar before me. “So. What can I tell you? There’s been a fair few incidents with bandits on the road to the north. Merchants being robbed as they traveled down from Dunwater. But it would be more than one man could manage. I hear told there’ve been a score of them or more.”

“Are bandits common in these parts?”

“More and more. Deserters, mostly. Drakos strolled in here with his army, but now they’re sitting around idle, aren’t they?” He shook his head. “Men like that … they go looking for violence. And Drakos doesn’t care to rein them in; it’s fewer wages for him to pay out.”

“Thanks, friend. I’ll know to avoid that road then.”

“I heard a village called Fernwick to the south lost its mine to a group of goblins.”

“Did you now?” I said, raising an eyebrow to cover my desire to smile.

“That’s about all I know.”

“Appreciate that.”

“You going to get some food?”

“Sure.” I cast my eye over the common room. “I’ll take that seat in the corner.”

“I’ll send Melissa over when she’s free.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “The real scourge around these parts is Drakos and his men.” He shook his head again. “There ain’t nothin’ to be done about that, though, is there?”

“Aye,” I said, taking a swig of my beer. There was no getting away from the constant reminders of my failure. “I guess I’ll wait for Melissa at the table in the corner.”

“Right you are.”

I took a seat with my back to the wall, setting my mug on the table. There were three folks dressed in traveling clothes that I figured were merchants, and a dozen other patrons with the air of regulars. A hum of gentle conversation filled the common room, and the atmosphere was amiable. Given that this was the main social area, it spoke well of the town.

A girl walked out of a side door, carrying a platter with trays of meat and bread. She delivered it to the merchants, then went to the bar to fetch the mugs of beer Zevrin had poured. I saw him point to me, and she nodded. She dropped the beer mugs off, then made her way over.

“Welcome, stranger. Zevrin said you wanted to eat?” She gave me a warm smile. She was a pretty girl, maybe eighteen years old, wearing a thin dress. Like Senna’s, but shorter; it came down to mid-thigh.

“What do you have?”

“Meat, bread, cheese, or some of last night’s stew if you want something hot.”

“Bread and cheese sound good.”

Another smile. “Coming right up.”

The door opened and four men swaggered in, looking around the tavern like they owned the place. They wore leathers dyed black, swords and daggers belted at their waists, and one of them had a scar running down his cheek.

Melissa froze in mid-step before hurrying back to the bar, her gaze averted.

The mood had changed swiftly, the patrons focusing on their food, and the conversation faded away.

I didn’t need any more clues to know who they were. Drakos’ men had arrived.